My Friend Pippin
by Frodolives14
Summary: Set after RotK, Merry reflects on how much Pippin’s friendship has meant to him during a rather eventful afternoon. * NO SLASH *


MY FRIEND PIPPIN by Frodolives14 Summary: Set after RotK, Merry reflects on how much Pippin's friendship has meant to him during a rather eventful afternoon. NO SLASH Disclaimer: Don't own any of it. Wish I did, but don't. AN: I love Merry and Pippin, and the friendship they share. I consider their relationship to be one of deep, platonic, brotherly love. There is no slash here, stated or implied, so don't look for it. Enjoy, and please review! Thank you! Being the future Master of Buckland isn't as easy and glamorous as it seems. Ever since I came of age, my father, the current Master, Saradoc Brandybuck, has been putting more and more responsibility on me. He took it a little easy on me when we first returned from our part in the War of the Ring, but lately, the work has been piling up again. "I won't be around forever, you know, Meriadoc," he says, using my full name, "and I want to know that, when I'm gone, there will be a responsible and knowledgeable hobbit leading the family." I want to make him proud. I want to do a good job when I become Master. And I really don't mind the work.most of the time. But there are days when I'd much rather be doing something else.  
Like today, for instance. It's one of those glorious, perfect late spring days here at Crickhollow, when the sky is blue and the sunlight golden, and it seems a crime to be stuck indoors. But that's right where I am, once again. I've found myself here far too often lately, trapped in my study, poring over papers. Sighing, I pick up a new stack of papers and start to look over them. A comprehensive listing of the food stores at Brandy Hall. I'm supposed to look it over and determine if there is enough food left to sustain the many hobbits living there until the farms start producing. My father will double-check it, of course; but he wants to see if I'm able to provide an accurate answer. I have to have my answer ready before the messenger comes tomorrow at noon. I pick up a pen and a blank piece of paper, dip the pen in the inkwell at the corner of the desk, and start to make some calculations. No pressure here, Merry, none at all, I think to myself. At least I can't get into any trouble while I'm working on this.or can I?  
Just then, I hear footsteps coming down the hall. Oh no, not now. I think desperately. But it's too late. The footsteps stop just outside the closed study door, and then comes the inevitable: (Knock knock knock) "Merry, hey, Merry!" "What is it, Pip?" The door opens and Pippin Took sticks his head in. My cousin, best friend, current roommate, and unflinching partner in crime. My ability to get into trouble pales next to his. Whether plotting a prank or escaping from great danger, Pippin has been by my side for as long as I can remember. He would do anything for me, and I for him. I love him like a brother and, usually, I delight in his singularly entertaining company. Except when I'm working. He ALWAYS seems to find some way of interrupting me while I'm working, and it drives me crazy. But he's my friend, and I must try to be nice. I give him an encouraging smile. "What are you doing?" He asks, bright blue eyes shining with curiosity. "I'm very busy, Pip, I'm going over some papers," I say evenly, gesturing to the overflowing desk in front of me. "Wanna come for a walk with me?" He asks, shaking his unruly, curly blond hair out of his eyes. It falls right back in the same place, as it always does, and I have to smile. "C'mon Merry, it would be a shame to waste the whole day indoors. And besides," he says with a mischievous grin, "we can swing past Estella's and see if she's home." In spite of myself, I suddenly blush deeply. Pippin knows that I've had my eyes on the lovely Estella Bolger for quite some months now, and that I'd never pass up an opportunity to walk past her family's hole and possibly see her. "All right, you twisted my arm, you manipulative Took," I say, carefully putting the papers and pen back on the desk in front of me and standing up. "A break would do me good. But I have to finish this by noon tomorrow, so I can't take the whole afternoon." Pippin nods eagerly, and I leave the study with him, closing the door behind me. After a brief stop at the rack next to the front door to grab our coats, we head outside and down the path into the bright sunshine.  
The minute we get outside, I am glad, both for Pippin's initiative in inviting me on this walk and my decision to accept the invitation. The warm sun, soft grass, and pleasantly cool breeze instantly help to improve my mood. Pippin's, however, doesn't seem to need improving as he walks next to me, stepping lively and humming a nonsense tune. I soon find myself forgetting my troubles in favor of humming with him. It's hard to remain depressed or melancholy when you are around him and he is of a good humor: his youthful enthusiasm, carefree optimism and overall love of life is infectious. It seems impossible, watching him cavort around like this, that only a matter of months ago he was severely wounded and fighting for his life. He, of the four hobbits that went on the Quest and participated in the War of the Ring, has recovered the swiftest. Frodo still suffers the aftereffects of the Morgul-blade wound and Shelob's sting; and there seems to be a dark cloud around him now, a deep sadness as of a longing for something far away. We help him as much as we can, but he will never be the same. Sam is finally just starting to put back some of the weight he lost and look like his old robust self again. For a long time, he looked only a shadow of his former self; but the return to the Shire and Rosie's care have done very well by him. He will recover, but as a Ring-Bearer (even if only for a very short time) and Frodo's closest companion on the darkest parts of the journey to Mordor, there is a part of him that will always carry those painful memories. For my part, I am still nursing my injured arm: though it's much better now than it was, it still causes me pain occasionally and I have to be especially careful when lifting or carrying things. For me, the memories have mostly faded. At night, when the world is quiet, I can still hear the voices of the Orcs or see the face of the Nazgul-king, but the moment passes quickly and leaves no trace of fear. The worst is behind me.  
There are some things I will never forget, though. The day they brought Pippin back from the Battle of the Gates was one of the blackest of my life. When Legolas came running up to me and told me to come quickly, Pippin was badly hurt, and then when I saw him lying there, pale and motionless.I thought the worst. I stood by him those next few days, holding his hand, barely sleeping, praying, begging, willing him to be strong and live. When he finally opened his eyes, I cried for joy. We spent the next several weeks recovering, sleeping next to each other in a large tent next to Frodo and Sam's. Often one of us would wake up from some nightmare or other, plagued by terrible visions; then the other would waken also, and extend in the still darkness of the Gondor night a comforting hand and a soothing word. Soon, it was Pippin who was providing me with comfort, and lightening the spirits of the rest of the camp with his childish antics. He had put the darkness behind him, as a good hobbit should. But there are still moments, blessedly rare, when his shining, smiling face will cloud over, and his bright eyes will darken, and his laughing voice be silenced; and then I know that a dark memory has taken him, if only for that moment. At those times I feel a momentary flash of anger at Grishnak and his folk, and Saruman who created and controlled them, for inflicting such horror that my undaunted, lighthearted Pippin will still remember and tremble. But then I recall how Grishnak met his end at the bows and swords of the Riders of Rohan, and how Saruman (or Sharkey, as he is remembered in the Shire) was sent off in humiliation, and I know that justice was served.  
Pippin is in the same position as I am (though not as close to it) of being the future leader of his family: His father, Paladin, is the current Thain of the Tooks. Many think him still unfit, but I disagree. It is true that my cousin has a penchant for pranks and jokes and a way of not taking life seriously. That is only one side of him, though. I owe Pippin my life several times over. It was he who kept his head despite the horror during our crossing of Rohan with the Orcs, thought to drop his broach, managed to free his hands, and conceived the plan by which we finally escaped. It was he who found me, confused, lost and injured, on the Pelennor Fields and got me to the Houses of Healing, saving me from being trampled underfoot and thus further wounded. I shudder to think of where, how, and whether I would be today if Pippin hadn't been there with me. We continue to walk down the main road, enjoying the glorious day and each other's quiet company. Then suddenly, I am jerked out of my thoughts when Pippin grabs my hand and leads me off the trail and into a field. "What are you doing?" I ask him. He doesn't answer, but flashes me a mischievous, eager smile. He knows I hate when he does that. "Pippin, what are you doing?" I ask again. "Where are you taking me?" I'm growing uncomfortable as he continues to drag me forward. The tall grass is slapping my bare calves painfully, and the rutted, rocky ground is causing me to trip and stumble. "Peregrin Took, I demand that you tell me what this is all about!" I finally shout. "Hang on, Mr. Impatient, you'll see in a minute," he says lightly, not slackening his pace. A few seconds later, he stops. "Now you need to close your eyes." "What?!" I shout. "You drag me here and don't tell me why, just when I was starting to relax.and now you want me to close my eyes? Whatever for?" "Just.trust me." He looks at me and I know he is serious; we will not move an inch unless I close my eyes. Besides, I've trusted him in more dangerous situations. "I don't know how you do it, Pip," I sigh, closing my eyes tightly. "Now take my hand.don't look, now." He gently takes my hand again and starts to lead me forward. The ground slopes upward slightly, and I am aware that the grass is shorter and softer here, and very pleasant under my feet. Again he stops. He lets go of my hand and says softly, "Open your eyes." Before me is a sight so unexpected it makes me gasp. We are on the top of a gently sloping hill covered with soft, short, green grass. Before us is a beautiful, open, rolling field. At the bottom of the hill a small stream makes a winding path through the field, and on its near bank sits an old willow-tree. Under the tree, on a bright red blanket, is set a large picnic basket, with two water bottles sitting next to it. And next to me, Pippin is smiling. "I thought you might enjoy a picnic out of doors," He says, shaking his hair and turning to me. For a moment, I am too moved to speak. When I do find my voice again, I turn to him and murmur, "How did you find this place?" "I got sidetracked off the main trail the other day, looking for mushrooms. I came upon this hill and thought that tree would be a perfect spot for a picnic. Do you like it, Merry?" "Aye, that and more," I answer. We look at each other for a few heartbeats, and start down the hill together. "Let's just hope this fellow isn't related to Old Man Willow!" I quip, and Pippin's musical laughter sings over the hill.  
  
We make quick work of the meal, which is simple but delicious: bread and cheese, wonderful cold salt pork, and, of course, a huge basket of fresh-picked mushrooms. I get a pleasant surprise when I take a drink from my water-bottle; it filled, not with water, but with a fine golden ale. For dessert, I get another surprise when Pippin pulls out two beautiful seed-cakes, my favorite. As we eat, I coax from him the details of how he planned and executed this picnic, including how he baked the seed-cakes while I was sleeping and snuck the rest of the food out of the house while I was working (he was so quiet, and I so involved in what I was doing, that I hadn't even noticed). After cleaning up and readying everything for transport back to Crickhollow (it had taken Pippin several trips to get the food out here, but it would take the both of us only one to get the baskets, blankets and plates back), we settle back to enjoy an after-meal smoke. I am quite content to lean back against the old willow and draw lazily at my pipe, but Pippin is quite energized, and, his pipe in his mouth, proceeds to wade and splash along the shore of the stream, singing as he goes.  
  
"Be careful, now, Pippin, those rocks look slippery," I call to him, interrupting his song. He turns back to me, annoyance clear on his face. "Don't worry, I'll be careful, Mother," he quips, and he turns on his heel. And lands on one of those slippery rocks. "I've got great balance. I'm not gonna.whoa!" As he puts his foot down on the rock, it slides out from under him, and he lands, bottom-first, in the stream. "Are you all right?" I call to him, running over to the bank near where he sits waist deep in the water. He looks ridiculous, dripping wet, with his pipe still firmly clenched in his teeth and his eyes darkly hooded in anger. I can't help myself; I start laughing. This angers him more, and he starts to yell at me. "Oh, that's great, go ahead and laugh, Merry," he screeches, grabbing his pipe and throwing it onto the soft grass on the shore nearby. "I'm sorry, it's just too funny," I gasp, unable to control myself now. Beside himself, Pippin flounders to his feet. He walks the few steps over to where I am and, for the third time today, grabs my hand. But this time, he pulls me into the water with him. We both tumble into the clear, chilly water, wrestling and splashing. After a few minutes of this, we are both panting, exhausted, and completely soaked. It is Pippin who is first to laugh this time. "You look a fright." He says, giggling. "So do you, you fool," I respond. It takes us both several attempts to stand up, during which we must look quite a sight as we flounder around. Finally, we both manage to get to the shore, and we throw ourselves down next to the tree, still laughing. We can never stay mad at each other. "Come on, Merry," he says after we've caught our breath, "We need to get home.it's getting late and you need to finish your work." It's been almost two hours since he first knocked on my door. "You're right. Let's go." We cheerfully collect our pipes and pick up the picnic gear, climb back over the hill, and make our way back to the main road. We are both still sopping wet, and a cool breeze is kicking up as the sun starts to set. I am beginning to sniffle and shiver, and Pippin beside me is not much better off. "Don't worry," I tell him, "We'll be home soon." He looks at me, smiling gamely, and we start down the road, leaving a wet trail behind us.  
We grow steadily more cold and miserable as we continue the trip home. I try to remind myself, and Pippin, that we have been through worse: what about the humid misery of the Midgewater Marshes, or the snowstorm on Caradhras, or the dark chill of Moria, to name a few? It's funny how you never know what you are physically capable of until you are truly tested.and how quickly you forget. We are brave adventurers, knights of Gondor and Rohan. A little cold and wet should not stop us.  
We have not gone far when we hear someone coming down the road, singing in a high, clear voice. I stop to listen, and motion for Pippin to do the same. Suddenly realizing who it is, I gasp in horror. This is not happening, I think to myself. "It's Estella! I can't let her see me like this," I whisper desperately to Pippin, who completely understands. He silently points to a group of bushes on the side of the road, and we rush to duck behind them and hide the picnic things. The voice comes closer, and soon the hobbit it belongs to appears around the bend in the road. It is Estella Bolger, seeming to glide as she walks slowly down the road, singing and laughing. I feel my face flush red as I watch my Estella pass by through the bushes. She is truly the most beautiful hobbit I have ever seen. I can only imagine how she would laugh if she saw us like this, muddy, wet and disheveled. I cannot take my eyes off her as she stops to examine a patch of wildflowers by the side of the road. "Look at these, aren't they lovely?" Estella says quietly to herself. She bends over to pick a bunch of them, and then places a few in her hair. I am completely entranced by her, and I part the bush in front of me and lean forward a little bit in an attempt to get a better view. "Merry, wait!" Pippin whispers sharply next to me. I am so distracted now that his words barely register, and I lean forward even more.  
And that's when I lose my balance, tumbling forward through the bush and spilling out onto the road with a thump. "What in the Shire." I hear Estella murmur as she turns around in surprise. "Merry?" She asks, walking towards me. "What are you doing here?" There is surprise and a hint of anger evident in her voice. I clamber to my feet as quickly as I can and brush myself off. "Hello, there, Estella, fine day for a walk, eh?" "Were you.spying on me?" She asks, coming to stand right in front of me. "Not at all, Estella, not at all.Pippin and I were just.looking for mushrooms under these bushes, weren't we, Pippin?" Pippin's blond head pops up from behind the bush. "Aye, yes, looking for mushrooms.uh.none here, Merry, we should probably move on and check down the road a piece." "Um, yes.we'll just.be off now, then.have a nice day," I say quickly, grabbing the picnic blanket that Pippin hurriedly hands me and turning to go. Pippin picks up the basket and starts to follow. "Wait just a moment," Estella says, stopping us in our tracks. We turn around with sheepish expressions, standing there in front of her, dripping, covered with dirt, mud, leaves and twigs. "If you're hunting for mushrooms, then why are you all wet?" She asks matter-of-factly, her mouth set and eyes diamond-hard. "Er.um.well." I stammer, trying to think of some explanation for our sorry state, but my head is a whirl, words floating just out of my mind's grasp. Her eyes soften, and her mouth curls into a smile. "No, don't tell me," she says, beginning to laugh. "I probably don't want to know." "Probably not," Pippin pipes up, and I deal him a swift kick. He winces under his breath, but takes the hint and is quiet. "Just promise me you're not doing anything illegal, will you, Merry?" She asks pleadingly, with an unexpected intensity that catches me even more off-guard. "No, Estella, nothing illegal, I promise, we're not out for trouble today, honest." "Good. It's hard enough for my parents to accept that I'm interested in you.it won't improve their opinion of you if you keep getting into trouble." "In.interested.in me?" Once again I cannot speak or even think clearly. She smiles widely, and her sweet round cheeks go as crimson as mine must be. But she retains her composure. "I'll see you later, Merry, Pippin," she says simply, and moves off, walking rather quickly. I am quite unable to move, and remain rooted to my spot long after she has disappeared around the corner. "Merry?" Pippin comes up next to me after a while and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Merry, are you all right?" "More than that, Pippin, I'm ecstatic!" I say brightly, turning to him. "She said she was interested in me!" "That she did, Merry, and then she went as red as an apple. She likes you, for sure." I can't help myself; a whoop of happiness escapes my throat, and I jump up and down in joy. "She likes me! Estella Bolger likes me!" I shout it, feeling the happiness well up inside me until I think I will burst. "Aye, Merry, and it seems the whole Shire will know about it now," Pippin says sarcastically, smiling. I smile back. "This has been a wonderful day, Pippin. Thank you." "No problem, Merry," he responds, taking my hand for the fourth and final time today, as we head together, wet, dirty, and triumphant, down the path toward home. 


End file.
